


Stormwhisper

by Eastern_Lights



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastern_Lights/pseuds/Eastern_Lights
Summary: A storm raged over Ashenvale. A very desperate Tyrande went out on a futile search. And came back with more than she had dared hope for...





	1. Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to all us Malfurion/Tyrande shippers who are starving for more content of them just being together and mostly happy.  
> This takes place about a thousand years before the Third war. As Teldrassil and Darnassus aren't a thing yet, Astranaar is sort of a Night elf capital.  
> That is about it, hope you enjoy :-)

A mighty storm raged over the ancient forests of Ashenvale. The trees groaned and creaked as they tried their hardest to stand against the wind's onslaught. Rivers grew swollen and quickly flooded the land far and wide around their banks.

Every creature that called those forests home stayed in its den that night, and prayed that the chaos would cease soon. Even the night elves, children and protectors of the vast woodlands dared not go outside. Large windows and open walls of their elegant buildings were covered with magical curtains as thin as silk and as as impenetrable as steel. That gave the kaldorei at least some semblance of peace and quiet. Even so, warriors gripped the hilts of their blades so hard their knuckles whitened and mothers held their children with equal fervour.

Except for one. Though not for her lack of trying. A single elven woman stumbled through the town of Astranaar, each step burying her foot deep in the mud. Raindrops streamed down her worried face, drenching her silvery gown.

Even in such a state, she offered a glorious sight. She was tall and lithe and her complexion of a pale violet shade. Her midnight blue hair framed a beautiful face with full lips and almond eyes the colour of moonslight. That face could be described as ageless - young, yet mature and troubled beyond comprehension.

"Nerya!" she cried as she reached the town gate. Not her. She would _not_ lose her as well.

No-one called back.

"Nerya!"

Nothing. The woman leaned against one of the gate's pillars. She let her head fall and her hair hide her face. Raindrops started mixing with her tears.

Then she jerked her head towards the sky, staring down the raging elements, never blinking. Her silver orbs were wide open and swam with both tears and rainwater.

"Elune, my lady! Forgive your servant for this disturbance!" she called at the unseen moon.

"Already have I lost one who was like a brother to me, so long ago! Already have I lost the one I love, who might never return to me! Please, Mother moon, spare my child! Let me bring her home!"

The priestess never lost faith in her Lady, however, now she felt like her prayer fell on deaf ears. So she did the only thing she could. She ran. She had no idea where her daughter might be, but she ran and ran and ran. First she lost one of her sandals in the sticky mud, then the other. She hardly even noticed. After what felt like a medium-sized eternity, as exhaustion and cold started to claim her, her legs kept the pace, but her mind started to drift back in time.

For millenia did Tyrande Whisperwind try to come to terms with never having children of her own. That one thing missing in her and her mate's life had left a gaping hole in her soul that seemingly could not be filled by anything else – not hard work, not devotion to her Goddess, not even her love for her mate, Malfurion, and their adoptive daughter, Shandris.

The night she realized she was with child was the happiest night of her life, rivaled only by the one the babe had been born, seventeen years ago. Nerya Whisperwind. Tyrande had watched her grow with happiness and pride. The girl had inherited her father's dark green hair, but she had her mother's almond eyes like two moons. For five winters had the family been together and happy. Tyrande, Malfurion and their two daughters. But alas, that was not meant to be. The Archdruid's debt to Lady Ysera had not been paid yet, and the Emerald dream claimed him once again. Nerya had grown distant and often wandered through the forests alone. She had entered the service of Elune in accordance with her mother's wishes, but had found it hard to concentrate on studies and prayers, Tyrande knew. Nerya had, despite the undoubtable respect she had for Elune, also often lacked the faith that the Moon goddess even cared about the lonely kaldorei girl's plight.

 _Malfurion..._ she thought, _My Malfurion, why did you have to leave us again? Each time you leave, you may not return... And now I am to lose the last piece of you I have left?_

She slowed down, then stopped. Despite being soaked to the bone, Tyrande felt like she'd been bled dry. She fell to her knees.

"Malfurion..." she repeated, out loud this time. Did the hellish downpour lessen, or had she just got used to it? It hardly mattered. She closed her eyes.

"If you can hear me, or if you can sense my tears..." The words got stuck in her throat. She felt the rain grow lighter and warmer, but it could have become a hailstorm for all she cared.

"Tyrande..."

Malfurion's voice was deep and smooth and soft and gentle, just as she remembered it. Tyrande was all too aware that it was just her exhausted mind playing tricks, but oh, how she wished it were truly him...

"Tyrande, my love, open your eyes."

It sounded so real... Steeling herself in preparation for bitter disappointment, she obeyed. Immediately, she blinked a few times. There he was, kneeling on the ground, right in front of her. This was no trick, no dream. She covered her mouth with her hand as tears of joy came to her eyes. And in his arms, Malfurion held a young, green-haired girl. She appeared to be sleeping.

Tyrande suddenly had no idea what to say, or what to do. She shakily caressed Nerya's hair. It was messy, wet and caked in mud, as was her white novice-priestess' gown but the girl herself looked healthy.

Tyrande met her mate's gaze.

"She is-"

"Just asleep," Malfurion quickly assured her, „She was exhausted when I found her, and I thought I would help her rest at least until she was home.“

He took a long look at his daughter and smiled.

"Tyrande... She is beautiful."

Tyrande chuckled.

"Luckily, she got her looks from me," she joked.

It was not entirely true. Now that she was almost a grown woman, it became apparent that Nerya's features would be sharper and narrower than her mother's and Tyrande had only to look in front of her to know exactly where she got them from.

There was so much she wanted to tell Malfurion, and no time to say it. Even later, when they would all be warm and safe, she was not sure she would find her words.

"Come, let us go home," Malfurion said as he rose, lifting Nerya without visible effort.

Moments later, Tyrande and the still-sleeping Nerya rode a magnificent white stag back to Astranaar.

The High priestess could scarcely believe it. Her beloved had returned to her and their child was safe and sound. She turned her gaze towards the morning sky as the clouds began to break.

"Thank you, Mother moon..." she whispered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my humble fic! I hope you enjoyed and I'd be very grateful for any comments :-)


	2. Shard of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfurion and Tyrande are trying to come to terms with their reunion likely not lasting very long.  
> Nerya has a dream that may turn out to mean much more than anyone could expect...

Tyrande's eyes flickered open. She lay in her bed, in her tree home in Astranaar. It was almost twilight. Deciding it would not be worth it to go back to sleep, she started to rise... And immediately stopped as she noticed the arm around her shoulders. She smiled and turned to regard her mate. He was still asleep, but it was normal, true, restful sleep. Tyrande placed her hand on his bare chest, then trailed her fingers down the lightning shaped markings decorating his body. She pulled back after a moment.

“Don't stop,“ Malfurion murmured.

“I thought you were sleeping,“ she whispered. He opened his bright golden eyes.

“I have slept for far too long already,“ he said with a sad smile.

“But now you are here,“ Tyrande countered, placing her hands on both his cheeks and gave him a feather-light kiss, “and I will let nothing separate us ever again.“

„Tyrande-“

„I know, I know you will have to go back there. Elune knows if I could change one thing about this world, it would be that.“

„Believe me, I would wish nothing more than to stay forever.“

He pushed himself up on his elbows and brushed a few stray strands of hair from his mate's face. Tyrande closed her eyes and let out a breath.

„Words cannot describe how much I love you, Malfurion Stormrage,“ she whispered.

Before he could reply, she put a finger on his lips.

„No, don't say anything, just... Be here now.“

 

 

Nerya was dreaming. She was quite sure of that. She dreamt that she was standing on a forest riverbank, looking out on the water. The sky was dark, and there was clearly a storm coming. Everything was silent. It was that silence that was more terrifying than any sound could be. No leaves vere rustling, even though her own hair danced in the wind.

For a while, nothing happened, which only made the young woman more anxious. Then, the forest on the other side seemed to light up, as a snow-white stag came galloping through the trees.

Nerya's heart leapt at the sight, though she was not sure why. The stag looked at her with his large, golden eyes. That stare held calmness... and sorrow. Nerya wanted to come closer to the creature, but there was no way across the river.

Suddenly, the sky grew yet darker. The night elf suddenly found it hard to see, despite her kind being used to much greater darkness. She squinted across the water and realized with horror that the stag was no longer alone. Facing him was a crature of pure nightmares. It was as large as him, shaped roughly like a bird, one blacker than night and gaunt like a lonely wolf, who had not eaten in weeks. It jerked its head upwards and let out a scream that chilled Nerya to the bone. It was not a cry of despair or agony, but rather one of a challenge and perverse joy. The fiend turned its head to the night elf piercing her soul with its blood red eyes. It cackled darkly. Nerya expected it to fly across and tear her to pieces, but it turned back to the stag instead. In a female voice, that the elf immediately wished never to hear again, the creature told her adversary mockingly:

"Ishnu dal'dieb."

Such a perverse parody of the traditional kaldorei greeting and well-wish made Nerya more angry than she would have thought possible. All fear forgotten, she stepped into the river with the intention of getting to the fiend and making sure it never spoke again.

However, the stag's sorrowful gaze stopped her in her tracks. He shook his head.

Then, radiating determination, he charged the monster. Antler met claw and both feathers and white fur flew through the air, so vicious was the battle.

Nerya did not know how long they fought, as she was still trying to find her way across the river.

She only knew that when she next looked up, the dark creature's claws were dug deep in the stag's back. Savage laughter echoed through the forest. Nerya stopped breathing.

The stag did not cry out in pain, just let out a breath that sounded almost elven. Then he collapsed into the grass, as his dark red blood stained the white fur.

"No!" Nerya cried. It could not be! He can't be dead! Not him, not-

"No!" Nerya's eyes shot open and she sat up in her bed, breathing heavily. Suddenly, she heard steps coming from the next room.

„Nerya, are you alright?“ said a male voice. Before she could answer, her father walked through the door. It took her a moment to recall that she had already known him to be back, and that it was him who found her during the storm. It still felt surreal to see him again. He crossed to her bed and sat next to her.

"I heard you cry out," he said, his voice full of concern. Nerya met his gaze.

"I had a dream, that's all," she said, forcing a smile. Was it though? There was something about the dream that still sent shivers down her spine. It felt so... real. Suddenly feeling so very alone, she hugged Malfurion tightly.

"I am so glad you are here, father," she murmured into his mane of moss-green hair.

"So am I, Peacebloom, so am I..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think everyone can see right through the metaphors in that dream :-)  
> Again, thanks for giving this a read and hope you enjoyed.


	3. Find your Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerya has more and more doubts concerning her choice of calling. Her nightmares certainly don't help matters...

 

As soon as she could rise from bed, Nerya had decided to try and get into her normal routine again. She had spent the day after the fateful storm in her novice chamber in the Temple of the Moon, hoping to find some peace. But that she was apparently not allowed. In her sleep, she had again found herself in the dark forest, feeling helpless and alone, watching someone very important to her die painfully. At that point, she had awoken, drenched with cold sweat. She had fallen back asleep several times during the day, each time with similar results. Each time, the events of her nightmare had taken place faster and in a more gruesome manner. Just as she had woken up for the fifth time, image of the stag's torn-off head floating in the river fresh in her memory, she had decided she had enough.

So now she was in the main worship chamber of the temple, well before twilight, afraid to go to sleep again. She knelt before the white marble statue of Mother Dejahna and sank her hands into the cool waters of the moonwell at the monument's feet. Exhaling deeply, she washed her face, letting a few droplets of water slide into her open mouth.

„Mother Moon, give me peace...“ she plead to the deity. But no miraculous rays of moonlight shone down to calm her mind, no amazing warmth that the other priestesses described feeling spread through her body.

 _What was I expecting?_  she thought to herself.

_Why would Elune care about my nightmares?_

Just like every kaldorei, Nerya had the deepest respect for the moon goddess, but often found herself in a crisis of faith. Prayers, while good for ordering one's thoughts, offered little certainty of the outcome, and while the young novice was well aware that that simply was how things were, she found that fact difficult to cope with.

_Perhaps peace is too much to ask for..._

_Very well, Mother Moon, I will trouble you no longer._

Nerya rose. She was not going to wait for Elune to solve her problems for her. Her head made up, she stormed out of the temple. Once outside she picked up the pace, soon running throught the empty streets of Astranaar. She breathed the evening air. It was sweet, and tasted of freedom and peace. Why hadn't she thought of this before? Already she felt much better, but she knew it was not enough. She needed to feel the forest around her. It was not a particularly good idea, considering what happened the last time she'd ran off like this, but she hardly cared. Soon she left Astranaar far behind her. She stopped, breathing heavily, but wearing a large grin on her face.

„What are you doing here?“ a voice suddenly called. Nerya spun around, her robes swirling. But instead of an angry furbolg or any other threat her anxious brain could come up with in half a second, there stood in front of her a rather handsome man with ocean-green hair bound in a tail. He smiled and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

„My apologies. I did not mean to startle you. It is just strange to find another person in this part of the woods at this hour.“

Nerya let out the breath she'd been holding.

„Then may I ask you what you are doing in these woods at this hour?“ she said.

„The forest looks different before twilight. Some say more beautiful. I tend to agree, even though I am no druid. Do you blame me for wishing to enjoy its calm firsthand?“

The novice priestess allowed herself to relax some more. She smiled at him.

„No, not at all. It is in fact this very reason that I came here,“ she admitted. The other night elf stepped closer.

„Then you will not mind having me for company?“ he asked.

„No, of course not. Although I should like to know your name.“

He laughed.

„Forgive me. I am Valstann Staghelm.“

 

 

 

 


End file.
